


Never Been

by silverfoxflower



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Bear - Freeform, Character Study, Introspection, Post-Canon, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He means to exit the shop now that the threat has cleared, but then he sees the section of Captain America merchandise. There are DVDs, books full of sepia photographs and retro propaganda posters with Captain America’s smiling face. There’s a minute when his heart seizes up, just like it had in the exhibit, and his body feels swollen and aching with some strange new feeling. Then it fades, leaving behind the infuriating sensation of an unspent sneeze, a word at the tip of the tongue. He is trying <i>so hard</i> to remember but all he gets is static.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Been

He ducks into the Smithsonian gift shop because he encounters an enemy combatant on his way out of the museum. Blonde hair, slender build, the file he’d been given called her Agent 13.

He watches her from the reflective surface of a display case for scarves until she passes by the gift shop door and into the museum. She’s arm-in-arm with an elderly woman, wearing civvies, and unarmed. He demotes her to threat level 2, and lets the tension drain from his shoulders.

"Can I help you?" A uniformed employee with too-bright teeth pushes herself into his space. Immediately, his hand falls to his side, his fingers brushing against the metal edge of the knife he has strapped to his thigh. "Looking for a gift, maybe?" He can read the suspicion on her face, and all of his training tells him to slit her throat.

“‘m fine,” he mumbles, pulling the cap lower over his face and side-stepping her. This probably does nothing to assuage her suspicion.

He means to exit the shop now that the threat has cleared, but then he sees the section of Captain America merchandise. There are DVDs, books full of sepia photographs and retro propaganda posters with Captain America’s smiling face. There’s a minute when his heart seizes up, just like it had in the exhibit, and his body feels swollen and aching with some strange new feeling. Then it fades, leaving behind the infuriating sensation of an unspent sneeze, a word at the tip of the tongue. He is trying _so hard_ to remember but all he gets is static.

His eye is caught by a display of children’s toys in the area. Captain America figurines, clothing, and the such. There is a small gaggle of teddy bears, most of them wearing the familiar blue-spangled costume, a cowl squeezed onto their plush little faces. Then again there are a couple wearing a completely different costume.

He picks one up, frowning. It’s dressed in powder blue, lined with red corduroy at its top paws and buttons. A jaunty black domino mask is strapped over its plastic eyes.

"That’s a replica of Bucky Bear, which was produced and sold during WW2 to great appeal." The employee has taken a lap around the store and is back to bother him. "Only loosely based on the actual Lieutenant James Buchanan Barnes, of course."

"I can tell," he replies dryly, rolling one of the bear’s paws between his fingers. _Bucky_ is what the man on the bridge had called him. He’d been through the museum, seen the doppelganger in pictures and movies. _That_ Bucky always seemed to look at the Captain with such unfathomable emotion, something larger than the careless fondness he affected. Pitiful.

"Always a popular product, even moreso than the Captain America bears for some reason," the employee continues blithely, straightening the bears.

"I’ll take it," he says, presenting the woman with a crumpled hundred before turning on his heel and escaping the store, ignoring her calls after him. 

He stuffs the bear in his jacket pocket, allowing its head to peek out. Its arms swing with every step he took.

He thinks about that Bucky kid, who wears his face and smiled with the arrogance of untried youth int the camera, his eyes at once indolent and sharp as a blade. Whatever the man on the bridge had called him, he was just about as similar to _that Bucky_ as Bucky was to this bear. It's worth remembering.

With long strides he leaves the Smithsonian behind him, blending into the lunchtime crowd on the streets. Every step he can feel the bear in his pocket, a small, warm weight.

**Author's Note:**

> [more fics](http://actualmenacebuckybarnes.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic) can be found on [my tumblr](http://actualmenacebuckybarnes.tumblr.com)!


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